WITTY VERSE – WINTRYPOET

A POET ABIDES

In Michigan, where cold winds blow,
Abides a Poet, not many may know.
With boastful words and steaming ink,
He unzips to verse and makes you think,
On a freshly falling page of snow.

©Habib Dabajeh

THREE SIMPLE WORDS

I held her tight,
And refused to let go.
Her body got warmer,
Her breathing was gradual and slow.

She raised her face,
As her coral eyes met mine.
She blushed, and a smile so bright
Bewitched me, tingling my spine.

She squeezed in closer,
And whispered into my ear.
She spoke the three simple words
All living mortals long to hear.

She waited, gazing so timidly,
But I’m a man, timid and high-strung.
Three simple words harbored there,
Just hovering on the tip of my tongue.

©H. Dabajeh

DUALISM

A woman is born, and a future husband awaits.
She is taught from youth her daily chores.
But before marriage, the husband dates,
And usually wears out too many drawers.

The first days of marriage, like heaven-sent.
The woman washes, and the husband wears.
The years roll by and there is dissent,
But her monthly episodes, the husband bears.

There’s faith and love, and there is praise.
She gladly cooks, and the husband eats.
When she shops, the husband gladly pays.
And when she sleeps, the husband cheats.

Hostility grows and there is unrest,
Red roses and poems offer some relief.
Winning the argument becomes a contest,
As two once-happy couples now find grief.

Most marriages last and run their course,
But that all depends on one’s demeanor.
When love subsides, there is divorce,
And man is left holding only his wiener.

©H. Dabajeh

SHE LAID THERE

She lay there, her legs spread apart;
Tanned and delicious to my eyes.
My itching tongue swelled my heart,
My desire for her would be my demise.

The sweetness of her aroma filled the air,
And my mind began to fantasize.
With mouth-watering, I could only stare,
At those delectable steamy thighs.

Wondering how much more I can take.
I waited there with both lips dry.
My heart shivered, I began to shake,
Like the look of one about to die.

But finally, there I was by her side,
As a voice cries, “Are you ready?”
And at the top of my lungs, I cried,
“Carve the damn turkey already!!”

©H. Dabajeh 11/19

SAD ROOSTER

I shared a bed with a faithful virgin;
She was firm, tantalizing, and delightful.
I ripped off my clothes preparing to jump in
To excavate a garden, so blessed and beautiful.
She enticed my soul to commit the forbidden sin,
As my heart jumped, raising my spirit higher.
But she smiled giggling, and playfully withdrew,
And left the sad rooster with a burning itch.
Distinguished now are the flames of my raging fire,
As she left me aroused, bruised and blue.
Her laughter continued to charm and bewitch,
But I held no grudge, I remained honest and true,
And tried very hard to disguise my grin.
She was definitely not a virgin,
But one fine and conceited bitch.

©H. Dabajeh

IGNORAMUS

My life is mine, I live how I choose.
I write poetry, I don’t watch the news;
I gather memories and fill my heart,
You gather pebbles and fill your shoes.

You look at me and wish I was you,
But I have pure reason, you have no clue.
The same world revolves between both of us,
But what you see you find hard to construe.

You are a pipe dream, I am the man.
You question what you can’t understand.
But I’m to blame for your moral dimness,
While you build a foundation on quicksand.

I absolve you from all your stupidity.
Your dim mind can’t grasp placidity.
Your imaginary world is all you have,
I have a mind of poetry and limpidity.

Hypocrisy is what you breathe in.
God forbid should you have a twin.
Scientists are in awe of classifying you;
You’re neither an angel, man, or jinn.

My thoughts are mine alone to use,
Your mind lacks the art of schmooze.
If only you dared to open a book,
And feed your brain and pause the news.

But in your case, two donkeys mated,
And decided you should not be castrated.
A few loose screws rattled in your head,
And now you’re dimwitted and opinionated.

I’ve lived my life and paid my dues.
I can’t be burdened with your views.
I write my poetry and revel in beauty,
You eat the feces that feeds the news.

HRD 2/25/19

BE THANKFUL IT’S NOT YOU!

I was told about him, but I had to see,
And convince myself the myth was true.
He saw me coming and waved to me,
And what I beheld was a hairless Emu.
Oh, my stomach! The smell of his hairy feet!
Imagine ten times the stench of rotten meat!

He was a poor and crippled man,
Who begged for company night and day.
He’s quite deaf, and hard to understand,
And he usually has plenty to say.
He’s dumb as well, retarded and blind,
Whose family and friends left him behind.

I ask you truthfully, is life fair?
I mean, he still has his false teeth;
But he is bald, and the only noticeable hair
Fills his nostrils! So, how does he breathe?
Yellow hair, too, from puffing away;
I’m told he smokes four packs a day.

As for sexual intercourse, he has no part;
It seems he lost his manhood to a disease;
And I could not find it in my heart,
Nor dared to ask, how he pees?
Are you laughing, reader? This story is true,
Just be thankful it’s not you!

He seemed agitated, and gazed with a grin,
Maybe he got tired of me staring so close?
He also appears to have no visible chin,
And could literally touch his neck with his nose!
Get a hold of yourself, reader! I speak no lie!
I cross my chest and swear on his wooden eye!

He finally grew angry waving a finger as a sign.
Can you guess what finger the bastard waved at me?
I did not wish to leave this friend of mine,
And if I did, how will he know? The bat can’t see!
I felt bad, and wondered what to do;
I’d take him home, but it’s a long drive to the zoo.

He began mumbling, cursing, and shaking his head,
As if to say, “Go to hell, please, and leave me be!”
And as I turned to leave, I looked at him and said,
“Do tell me one thing: How the hell do you pee?!”
And from under his rug, he pulled out a shotgun,
And yelled, “You can have an answer, or you can run!”

H.Dabajeh 12/04

BEAUTIFUL LIES

I am the Poet who gladly dispenses
Enticing words with a stern decree.
The pure quality that allures the senses,
That aura of beauty I make you see.

I coerce your body and make you dance,
I fool your eyes and twist your tongue.
I pierce your mind and make you glance
Back to a time when youth was young.

I sing the verses of hope and despair,
And make you unclothe in the moonlight.
I make you picture what’s not there,
And show you the stars in broad daylight.

I cause you laughter, then I induce pain,
I prompt you to love, then make you hate.
I make you believe what you can’t explain,
I make you promises, then make you wait.

I close the day, and the night I raise,
And provoke the crickets to rejoice.
I tell the nightingale its time to praise
The living flora with the sweetest voice.

I make your days pass like years,
I make you cherish and make you scorn.
I invoke great bliss, then expose your fears,
I make you rejoice, then make you mourn.

I cause the crippled to leap with joy,
And show the blind beauty never before seen.
And I enlighten spirits and then destroy,
I tell you grass is white, and snow is green.

I overwhelm your heart when I incite,
And swell your passions and infidelity.
If lovers should brawl, and spouses fight,
Blame the enticing words, don’t blame me.

When you have finished reading my phrases,
Know this, my whole life is built on lies.
Please don’t look at me, I don’t like gazes,
When I’m reveling in your own demise.

I am a Poet, I tell beautiful lies.
I try to be honest, now and then.
A Bard at heart, the truth I disguise,
It’s not my lips moving, it’s my pen.

©Habib Dabajeh 3/2019

Preacher

I have preached among the sages
Possessing more knowledge than all my peers.
I outwitted all the wisemen in my ages,
But I have yet to sit among Heavenly Seers.

I have lived among worthy kings
Possessing power, wealth, and endless pleasures.
I held gold, precious pearls, and diamond rings,
But I have yet to hold Heavenly treasures.

I have loved, and loved them all,
Possessing the hearts of all the worlds.
I loved the obese, the thin, and tall,
But I have yet to sport Heavenly girls.

I roamed abroad all earthly lands,
The mountainous, snowclad, and rough terrain.
I covered all seas and desert sands,
But I have yet to tread Heaven’s plain.

I have confronted the right and wrong,
The rich and poor, the deaf and blind.
I stood beside the weak and strong,
But I have yet to befriend Heaven’s kind.

Now my life span has reached seventy,
And that dreaded Angel is drawing near.
And I smile, knowing I would be set free,
As I shout out loud, “I am here!”

Above my deathbed my eyes did see
That Phantom holding the decree of Fate.
He giggled, and tossed a key to me,
But damn if it was to Heaven’s Gate!

TIME TO MEND IT ALL

How often in my youth did I turn to sin,
And dabbled in corruption and alcohol?
I had no care when life was new,
I knew there was time to mend it all.

I was allowed to be footloose and selfish,
Because I was protected and provided for.
No burdens touched me, I was free,
And had the freedom to freely explore.

Now I have jumped into the ocean of despair,
And I must make my own bed.
I came to realize the waves are not as calm,
And the shore is rockier and harder to tread.

I used to turn to someone for comfort,
But now I find myself all alone.
Through the passing of time, I must labor,
And the choices I make are now my own.

Now my bones ache and my hair is grey,
The years are fleeting with every sunrise.
Laughter and joy have dissolved with youth,
And burdens bring only tears to my eyes.

I complained to Life to lessen my burdens,
For fear I might turn back to alcohol;
“Oh, Foolish One!”, Life laughed and cried,
“Where is the time to mend it all?”

©Habib Dabajeh

YOU’RE NOT ME

I am the proud slave of poetry.
I envy and adore
The Poets of yore,
Who paved with light a path for me.

A lyrical heart, unfettered and free.
I tell your ear
What it longs to hear,
I close your eyes and make you see.

Like the giving sun, I kindly disperse,
And I’m willing to impart
With an open heart
To anyone listening, a poignant verse.

You dance and revel in my poetry;
And all the while,
You sleep and smile,
And dream, wishing you were me.

And you could be! Just hope and pray,
But don’t dream too long,
Cause come the dawn,
The sun washes all dreams away!

THE POETS

We babble words pure and mendacious,
The longer we think, the more satirically audacious.
We can bring you down to sadness and despair,
Or we can choose to be instilling and gracious.

We plant the desert and drain the sea.
We sit for hours and converse with a tree;
And hear her endless tales older than humans,
Of a life, unbound by man, peaceful and free.

We stir the mighty oceans and calm the breeze.
We raise the poor and bring kings to their knees.
We can open and close portals unseen,
And can come and go as we please.

We have the entire heavens at our behest.
We make the sun rise from the west.
And we hide the moon and adorn the night
With strange anomalies, chaos, and unrest.

The entirety of the universe we do encase,
And travel its distances without a single pace.
The power of our words is infinite and abound;
We can disrupt time, and we can distort space.

And while you’re fixated on our every word,
You try to riddle what you just heard.
You clash between faith and incredulity,
And we continue to verse, undeterred.

And when all is said and done,
We split the moon and defuse the sun.
We leave you there in anger and bewilderment,
Wondering if it’s the end, or has it just begun?